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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30096426">Ultraviolence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovesickFrontman/pseuds/lovesickFrontman'>lovesickFrontman</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>DreamSMP One Shots [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A scene from Quackity's 3/16/21 Lore Stream, BAMF Alexis | Quackity, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Character Study, Dubious Morality, Gen, Introspection, Past Abuse, Prison, Religious Imagery &amp; Symbolism, Torture, Villain Alexis | Quackity, but Quackity is absolutely putting Dream through hell, if evil why sexy, it's not super graphic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:21:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>684</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30096426</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovesickFrontman/pseuds/lovesickFrontman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sure, Dream didn’t really harm Quackity personally. He never went truly out of his way to make his life hell like others had. But, he has what Quackity needs, and that’s all the excuse Quackity ever needed to do what needs to be done."</p><p>A short snippet of Quackity's thoughts on Day 1 as he takes Dream apart. Blood has never felt so much like communion wine on his tongue.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexis | Quackity &amp; Clay | Dream</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>DreamSMP One Shots [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190702</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ultraviolence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dream calling for Sam was music to Quackity’s ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Crack. Shriek.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity smiles, feels blood fleck against his cheek. Well, it’s not like Dream is doing much calling for Sam anymore. Figuring out how Quackity got in the cell with the weapons was not a difficult question to solve for the so-called master manipulator. Not when the sword was engraved with the Will of the Warden.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span><em>This is truly a once in a lifetime event</em>, Quackity muses, leaning back away from the shaking, wetly sobbing prisoner. Dream, torn down from godhood into so much mortal flesh and blood. Absentmindedly, Quackity brings a rubber gloved hand up to touch scratch his nose, leaving smears of ruby and garnet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches the taller man spit, ejecting a pearly white tooth and blood-staining saliva. His sobs are weak and round, every movement of his mouth another wave of agony, Quackity imagines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Look at him, experiencing the raw, splitting, bitter truth that he is <em>human</em>. Not a god, </span>
  <em>
    <span>never a god</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Quackity will come back here at 9 AM and leave at 11 PM every single day until Armageddeon if that’s what it takes to get that damn book. He knows it as sure as he knows the sky is blue, the prison is black, and Dream’s eyes are a watery, sour green.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wordlessly, he reaches down with the gifted sword and hammers the pommel down onto Dream’s hand, restrained under Quackity’s knee. Dream’s other hand was already busted, and at this point it’s not like he’s got much energy to fight back. <em>Raw potatoes don’t do your strength much good, Dream</em>, Quackity internally mocks as Dream’s wails crack and echo throughout the cramped cell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sounds like a choir of angels and the chime of Heaven’s bells. Quackity floats for a moment in the euphoria, the satisfaction of finally being the one to take. This was where it’s at, this was what matters: the game of war and the inevitable victory. Quackity wasn’t fucking around this time, wasn’t playing diplomat or shitty </span>
  <em>
    <span>patsy</span>
  </em>
  <span> with </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Like this, with holy eyes upon him and Sam’s wordless blessing, Quackity commits his most righteous sin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Underneath him, Dreams morphs in his mind’s eye. Monstrous pink visage to rugged masculinity; Dream is a predator, Dream is </span>
  <em>
    <span>prey, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dream is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Quackity’s</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>All of his agony, terror, despair: They all belong to Quackity in these dizzy, blessed, iron-scented hours. And Quackity is going to take it. Oh, he’s going to take it. He’s going to take every last drop of Dream and guzzle it down like sweet, pale milk, like a slushy watermelon cocktail. Like hopes and dreams and everything hollowed out from Quackity so long ago by wolves in the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, Dream didn’t really harm Quackity personally. He never went truly out of his way to make his life hell like others had. But, he has what Quackity needs, and that’s all the excuse Quackity ever needed to do what needs to be done. Quackity would say he deserves this for many reasons. He deserves his own payment in the suffering of others. He deserves to get the Book of Resurrection. He deserves to have dead-husband Schlatt under his thumb for eternity. All that stands in the way of everything he wants, everything he needs, is Dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Licking his lips and staring at the quivering man, Quackity faintly feels a drop of blood run through the cavernous scar on the left side of his face like a river through a canyon. If this isn’t what Quackity was born for, was </span>
  <em>
    <span>made</span>
  </em>
  <span> for, then he wasn’t made for anything at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did Dream deserve this? Who’s Quackity to say, he sure as shit isn’t anything mystical or divine. He’s just a man and Dream’s just a man. These moments these share, these promises of the days to come, aren’t anything more than sounds and violence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crack. Shriek. Smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity deeply inhales the pain, sweat, and tears of the cell and shakily exhales, reality dizzy and sweet as sugar around him. He wonders if this is what it feels like to be holy.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title inspired by The Clockwork Orange.</p><p>lovesickFrontman's fondness for horror movies, rp!Quackity's character, and violent revenge plots appears yet again. I wrote this in like 30 minutes so here we go getting it out while its still fresh.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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